Rapid Eye Movements
by royalpinkdogs
Summary: A young man launches a life of sea-going adventure with the added company of a beautiful face haunting his dreams
1. Chapter 1

Rapid Eye Movements

She had been in his dreams forever. Throughout his life, the same girl had been woven into those nightly adventures, appearing as a witness to his growth and his maturation. She had been the goddess holding the golden apples, the vision on the white horse, the partner in the first kiss, the woman he held in his arms. That same face had smiled upon him and welcomed him back into the world of dreams, offering the comforts and warmth of love.

As a boy, John Sparrow had been alternately mischievous and adorable. With a face sculpted by the angels, he could charm his way into and out of any situation, and used his looks and wit to accomplish feats considered incorrigible by most and usually unthinkable in a child. His mother, Helene, a native of Haiti, whose heart had been stolen by the dashing pirate, Teague, scolded and pampered her beautiful boy, for he was the only thing left her by her wandering husband. That the boy was a miraculous mixture of Teague's swarthy rugged features and Helene's more aristocratic elegant demeanor meant that John enjoyed the great gift of being at home in the world. He adored his mother and idolized his father, whom he saw only occasionally. Teague would visit the small cottage on the Devonshire coast, heaping upon his wife the riches and treasures he'd gathered on his travels and filling his son's head with fantastic tales of seafaring, before leaving for another eternity. Young John thought only of joining his father on his adventures, and would beg the long-suffering Helene for permission to join The Royal Navy, knowing she would never countenance a life of piracy for her beloved son.

The night before sixteen-year-old John left home to travel to Portsmouth where he hoped to be taken aboard a naval ship, he dreamed of the girl. She came to him as a sea nymph, robed in swirls of light and sea mist, beckoning him to follow her, as she dissolved in the water. He kept that image fresh in his mind as he endured the harsh travel conditions and confusion of Britain's largest seaport. Fortunately, the Navy was accepting new crewmen and welcomed the young man, although he readily admitted little knowledge of sailing aboard a large ship, having only ventured off the rocky coast of Devon in small craft. Again fate smiled upon this blessed man, for he was taken under the wings of an ensign with a gentle nature—surely a rarity in the Royal Navy. Along with several other new swabbies, John boarded the "Royal Katherine", the flagship of Admiral Sir George Rooke, and set sail on a bright summer morning for the choppy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

John had never been upon the open ocean before. Once the great ship moved away from the land, John had a moment of sheer terror. Nothing as far as he could see but water. He lost any sense of direction and froze, his hands gripping the ropes lifting the laden pallets by means of block and tackle. His momentary loss of attention brought a quick reprimand from the ensign in charge of the cargo movements, and John quickly returned to his duty, all the while stealing quick looks at the vast blue gray water of the north Atlantic. Throughout that entire first day aboard an ocean going vessel, the young man was enthralled by the expanse surrounding the ship and only barely responded to orders and commands. At nightfall, John was directed to the lower decks where each of the new recruits was allotted a set of metal hooks in the ship's hull, upon which he could stretch his hammock, and hang his canvas satchel filled with all his worldly goods. He chatted with his neighbor, Simon Parks, about the day and the wonders they had seen. Each man helped the other to stretch his hammock, and soon the lower deck was filled with snores and even breathing as the young men all slept deeply, having worked hard during their first day in the Navy.

John quickly fell asleep as well, and soon was drifting into dreamland, where she awaited him. He had never named her, only knowing her face and presence in his dreams. This night she appeared as the sea nymph again, and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him gently on the waves. John saw her face and felt warmth, comfort and fulfillment, sleeping deeply and awaking with the dawn for another day.

Time passed swiftly, traveling southward along the coasts of France and Spain, and soon the "Royal Katherine" was in position alongside other ships of the fleet in the water off Gibraltar. Admiral Sir George Rooke and other officers of His Majesty's Navy along with their Dutch allies were carrying out orders to surround the rocky outpost of Spain's military might and capture the site for Britain. A battle was waged with surgical precision, with the "Katherine" leading the attack. The crew of the flagship loaded cannons, moved stores of gunpowder and cannon balls into readiness and tended to the wounded, struck by defensive fire from the fortress.

John was afraid. He had never before had cannon fire booming in his ears, or the crash of flying metal splintering the decks he trod. His ensign yelled orders; the lieutenants barked commands and the captains called out directions. John tried to see and hear all he could, dodging incoming weapons fire and performing his duties, but he kept one eye on the Admiral, who stood staunch and sturdy throughout the fray. It seemed the man was immune to gunfire or cannon impacts, and that he stood within a field free of danger. Not only was he unperturbed by the bedlam around him, he maintained a calm control of his ship and the others following his lead. John saw all this, and was impressed, storing the image of the elegant Admiral, long curled wig topped by a gilded tricorn, brocaded frock coat emblazoned with gold braid, walking stick in hand as though he were in the eye of the hurricane.

By day's end, the allied naval forces had captured The Rock. Admiral Rooke had the Spanish flag hauled down and the English flag hoisted in its stead; a brigade of Dutch and British marines occupied the fort and town, and the next day the Admiral assumed the post of Governor of Gibraltar, claiming it for Queen Anne. For several weeks the Admiral ran the post with the military efficiency of a navy ship, and was able to return to his ship leaving the fort in the hands of other British officials.

Returning to the open waters of the Atlantic, the "Royal Katherine" met a combined Spanish-French naval fleet, off the coast of Malaga, and defended the allied occupation of Gibraltar. During all of these encounters, John had absorbed as much of the experience as he could. He quickly learned Spanish and a smattering of Italian from the remaining Genovese traders in Gibraltar, and during the battle single-handedly captured a contingent of French marines. To cope with this situation required all of his native cunning, and he was able to communicate with his Gallic prisoners thanks to the Haitian French his mother had spoken to him as a child. Command came naturally to him. His ability to manage was noted by the ranking officers of the "Katherine", and he was mentioned in the dispatches.

The night following the successful exchange of his French captives for an equal number of British troops found John unable to sleep, suspended in his hammock below-decks. Although he was physically exhausted, he could not force his mind to rest. Finally he reached a state of calm, and it was then that she appeared to him in that twilight sleep. The woman who had been in his dreams forever visited him, wrapping her arms around him and offering him comfort in her warmth. John must have responded audibly, for he was awakened by the slap of a tunic across his face, and the derisive laughter of his bunk mate.

"Here, Sparrow. What's this? You havin' a good dream, then? Them moans and grunts you be makin'---ar ye havin' yer way wif' a wommin?"

John shifted to his side and grumbled, "Shut it, Parks. T'was a dream. Go back to sleep 'n take yer filthy shirt with ya."

"Hav ye been wif a lady then Sparrow? Ye be purty 'nuf to get any woman—wot stories ye have to tell? "

"Nothing. Leave it, Parks. I'll not be tellin' you my stories."

"Tell ya wot, mate. When we gets back to port, you n' me is goin' to find ye a woman 'n one fer me too. Ye need to be indoctrinated, as it were."

"Fine, Parks, fine. I'll go trolling for trollops with you, now go t'sleep."

But with the morning, all thoughts of amorous adventures were driven from his mind, for John Sparrow was summoned to the Captain's Quarters, and given a field promotion to Ensign, in recognition of his outstanding maneuvers at Gibraltar and Malaga, and handling of the prisoners in his charge. With this promotion came new sleeping quarters and a pay increase, along with added responsibilities, resulting in his separation from Parks and the other swabbies. When several days later the "Katherine" made port, John was assigned duty aboard the ship while the lower ranks were given liberty. Thus it was that John was absent when Parks and several other crewmen from the "Katherine" were embroiled in a tavern fight, ending with the stabbing deaths of two members of the crew. Parks and a few others were carried back aboard ship, and taken to the ship's surgeon for treatment before being retained in the brig. Ironically, the linen wrapped corpses of the dead men from the fight were placed in the same chamber of the ship to be given burial at sea once underway. It fell to newly commissioned Ensign Sparrow to lead the men to fetch the bodies for that burial, and from his confinement in the brig Parks lost no time in telling Sparrow his thoughts.

"Ye sissy, lily-livered ass-kisser! I know you, Sparrow. Ye stayed on th' ship with th' big boys jus' so's ye wouldna git inter trouble! Ye wuz too scared t' go find ye a woman! And now look at ye—all fine 'n important! "

John ignored his former friend, turning his back on the brig and the continuing stream of invective, following the cortege above decks for the solemn service of burial at sea.

John was ferociously struck by the elegant ceremony, as the bodies of former partners of his, friends and equals, were consigned to the sea. He struggled to keep a tear from trickling down his cheek, but was unsuccessful. As he maintained his rigid posture of attention along with the others of the honor guard, the Admiral passed the line. He stopped short in front of John, looking him in the eyes, and muttered under his breath,

"Good man. You've feeling for your fellows. But don't let it sway your decisions. What's your name, son?"

John gulped, and managed to choke out, "Sparrow, Sir. John Sparrow."

"Sparrow, eh? Very good." and then Admiral Sir George Rooke walked on to his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Petty Officer John Sparrow loved the idea of command. Granted he only had responsibility for the stowage of barrels of provisions and this duty was under the command of a warrant officer, but he loved the feeling of pride in a good job done. The Allied Fleet of Dutch and British Ships maintained a watch along the coast of France and Spain and especially in the Strait of Gibraltar, thereby crippling French action in the Mediterranean. Often the "Royal Katherine" would encounter a French vessel, but being such a capable ship, and running with a superbly efficient crew, the "Katherine" would roust the French and run them back into port. The crew, while being routinely drilled and prepped had much free time. The sailors did not just splice ropes and sing sea chanteys; they engaged in quite a variety of illegal and illicit pastimes.

John was quite skilled at cards and dice, especially at cribbage and Pope Joan, and soon developed a reputation as a man against whom another player stood little chance of winning, much to the chagrin of many seamen. Some of the officers, in fact, offered to take him on in a game of Pope Joan, a game so popular that the ship carried the game board with its eight "bowls", from which players won coins as they played the face cards of the trump suit. Many of the officers fell prey to John's skills of memory, cunning and bravery, losing large amount of naval pay to him. Should the ship happen to dock at a friendly Portuguese town or indeed at The Rock, Gibraltar, the men would be given liberty, and all would head for the taverns and pubs. John was wily, and stayed near the rear of the crowd, watching the games in progress. Some of his shipmates would tease and prod him into entering the games, and would indeed offer to fund his betting, in exchange for a share in his profits. John would hold back, watching and waiting, only to seize his chance against a pompous, self-satisfied player, who would eventually withdraw in defeat at the hands of the young, innocent-faced seaman from the British ship. His greatest ability was at the Italian game of seven-and-a-half, using only the face cards and the seven, eights and nines. The sailors gathered around the table made note of John's resemblance to the Jack of Spades, for which a point would be counted, and he soon garnered the name of "Black Jack", becoming something of a legend in the towns along the Mediterranean.

The crewmen of the "Katherine" would also visit the other attractions of shore towns when in port, having their pay in their pockets and fire in their loins. The good townspeople would turn a blind eye to the traffic in certain parts of their towns where the world's oldest profession was proffered. For the first few months of his service with the Navy John had not sought such entertainment, but had heard enough from the other men of the crew to arouse his interest in the women of Vigo, where a Naval Battle several years before had resulted in British and allied troops being a commonplace sight in the town.

The first evening of "liberty", John accompanied several mates along to the pubs and taverns, first for some strong drink then plans for other forms of entertainment. The taverns offered the local wine in pails, and each sailor secured one for himself, drinking directly from the bucket. The wine was strong and soon the sailors were drunk. The women languishing in the tavern, offering their "wares" with lowcut bodices and tight corsets emphasizing their bosoms , were of every type imaginable. Many of the women had been in this line of work for many years, while others still retained some blush of youth. John wasn't attracted to any of them, having in his mind's eye the face that haunted his dreams. Although her appearances were becoming less frequent, he had dreamt of her for so long that he knew the face and found no other could take its place. He was enough of a realist to know she was only a dream, but he was not moved to approach any of the available women, despite their best efforts to entice this handsome young man into their arms.

One of the bolder women, showing the unforgivable signs of age by the unnatural color of her blowsy hair and the sag of jawline and throat, sidled up to John, running her hands around his waist and pressing her ample bosom into his chest.

"Señor—you would lahk to see me, no? Enjoy very much the bedding me? I very good bedding."

John patted her shoulder, and extracting himself from her tenacious grip, backed away," Ma'am, ye are very lovely, but ah have too much respect for a dona than to accept yer offer. B'sides, ah need t' find th' head," and turning swiftly, escaped into the alleyway---where he collided with a woman, covered in a shawl, carrying a basket of bread, some of it tumbling to the ground.

"Madre de dios--¿qué usted significa? usted ha golpeado el pan de mi cesta! "

"Perdón , senora, perdón. Déjeme ayudarle" as he bent to pick up the loaves of bread fallen from the basket. When he straightened, he saw at the woman's back another figure, also swathed in a shawl. But this was a younger woman, with the eyes the color of a copper penny, glowing in contrast to the dark hair escaping the headdress. Mesmerized, John stared for longer than was suitable, earning himself a quick reprimand from the older woman, and a slap on the face.

"No mire fijamente mi hija. ¿qué usted le piensa es?"

"Perdón. Excúseme, Senora, pero ella es Hermosa." As he shyly smiled at the girl, who shyly smiled back.

"Usted perro inglés asqueroso!! Usted no la mira. Ella es mi niño y usted no puede mirarla!!" as she began banging away at John's face and shoulder with her free hand.

Backpedaling to escape the onslaught, John swooped his cap from his head, bowed low from his waist, and turning away, ran from the alleyway before the angry mother could do further damage. Her screams and rants carried after him as he ran along the street, stopping only to look behind himself when he was several buildings separated from the tavern. Alone, bereft of his pail of wine, his shipmates and his dignity, John slouched down onto the rim of a fountain, and considered his options. He could not return to the same tavern, he wasn't familiar with other places in Vigo, and he was not willing to meet up with any other women of the type he'd met in that tavern. But those eyes—the eyes of that young girl. Ah, how he had enjoyed that moment. And as he imagined them, he realized they'd been the color of the eyes of the woman he had dreamt of his entire life. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, John knew then he was being haunted even when awake, by the woman of his dreams.


End file.
